


The Last Summer

by alocalband



Series: TW Tumblr Ficlets [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alocalband/pseuds/alocalband
Summary: When June finally arrives, and, with it, the beginning of his last year at camp, Derek has no idea what to expect.He and Stiles have been texting constantly since last summer, but neither has worked up to an actual phone call. Laura thinks it’s “cute,” Cora thinks it’s “boring,” and his mother won’t stop bringing up her own summer camp friend turned pen pal turned boyfriend from whenshewas Derek’s age.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to my Tumblr [over here](http://alocalband.tumblr.com/post/146974680815/written-for-the-sterekwriters-summer-bingo).

When June finally arrives and, with it, the beginning of his last year at camp, Derek has no idea what to expect.

He and Stiles have been texting constantly since last summer, but neither has worked up to an actual phone call. Laura thinks it’s “cute,” Cora thinks it’s “boring,” and his mother won’t stop bringing up her own summer camp friend turned pen pal turned boyfriend from when _she_ was Derek’s age.

“I’m not, like, writing him love letters or whatever,” Derek grouses, hunched over in the backseat of his parent’s sedan. Cora happily ignores the entire conversation from the seat across from him, in favor of whatever game on her phone she hasn’t yet beaten.

His mother glances at him in the rearview mirror. “I see. Still working up to it?”

Derek frowns and turns away to glare out the window at the passing scenery. He’s not “working up to” anything. He’s just _texting_. “Nobody writes letters anymore, mom.”

She hums noncommittally. “Still. Always a nice gesture.”

Gestures are not what Derek needs right now, though, barely a mile away from Camp Beacon, barely a mile away from _Stiles_ , and uncertain where he stands.

They were reluctant bunkmates last year. Then, briefly, ardent enemies. And then, somehow, tentative friends. Mostly due to their respective friend groups all suddenly becoming besties with each other. They exchanged numbers the last day of camp, and Derek really didn’t think anything would come of it. But then Stiles texted him not forty-eight hours later to complain about his new class schedule and Derek found himself complaining right back before he realized what was happening.

Since then, neither of them have gone a day without sending something to the other. Even if it’s just a random emoji that Derek is pretty sure he doesn’t entirely get the nuances of.

Derek’s phone vibrates against his hip just as his mother turns onto the dirt road that will lead them through the preserve to the cluster of cabins at its center. He pulls it out to check the incoming message. _Just got here! And Greenberg is already pulling rank so watch out dude._

Their assigned counselor last summer had been a bit of a buzzkill, as well as a hardass. Derek hopes they end up assigned to a different cabin this year. A different cabin, but still the _same_ cabin as each other.

He refuses to admit just how much he’s been worrying that they’ll end up separated this year. Which is to say, almost as much as he’s been worrying about what seeing Stiles again will mean. Are they genuine friends now? Something else? Or will everything just go right back to the way it was before: heated arguments over campfires and sarcastic remarks whispered through the gap between their bunkbed and the wall.

When his mother pulls into the camp, Derek only just narrowly manages to avoid anymore probing questions by making a beeline for the crowd of other campers while his mother checks him in. All of his friends are already there and in the middle of excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, and Derek is nervous for a split second before Boyd catches him with an arm around his shoulders to pull him into the mess.

He doesn’t spot Stiles until after he’s gone through the usual greetings with everyone else, but when he does… time seems to stop. Because _wow_. Derek was really hoping Stiles would have gotten _less_ attractive since last summer, but his luck has never been that great.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Stiles breathes, his mouth hanging open slightly. Derek doesn’t know what his words are in response to, but the way his plush lips form a perfect, soft “o” has Derek blushing already.

“Um, did you–” Stiles swallows. “Did you start, uh, working out or something, buddy?”

Derek ducks his head. “Oh. Well, I mean, I made the team this year, remember? And Coach is pretty ridiculous about our practice schedule.” Derek eyes the way Stiles’ t-shirt sleeves stretch tight around his toned biceps. Still the lanky klutz Derek knows all too well, but there’s a compact sort of strength to him now. “And you– You look, uh…”

Stiles face flushes a splotchy red and he shoves his hands forcefully into his jean pockets. “Well, we can’t all be greek gods.”

“What? No, I meant– Wait, you think I look–” Derek shakes his head and tries to get himself under control. What the hell is wrong with him right now? “I meant that you look, you know, good. Too. You look like you’ve been working out too.”

Stiles croaks a little, and gets impossibly redder. The blush even runs down his neck to disappear beneath his shirt collar, and Derek does _not_ want to see how far down his chest it goes. Really.

“Well, I haven’t been,” Stiles blurts. “Or, well, not willingly. Scott made me join the lacrosse team. I didn’t mention it because all I do is sit on the bench and it’s the stupidest sport in the world, I don’t know why he’s so into it. And yeah, okay I have to join in at practices, but I literally collapse halfway through every single drill, so I’m not sure how much it’s really helping me bulk up. Not that I actually care about… Er, yeah.“ Stiles snaps his mouth shut, like he’s afraid more words will spill out, unbidden, if he opens it again.

Derek shuffles his feet and clears his throat, not sure what to say next. Stiles grabs the back of his neck and glances up at Derek through his eyelashes, as hesitant as Derek as ever seen him. Their gazes catch and hold. Derek has no idea what’s happening right now, but he can’t bring himself to look away and his heart just started beating double time in his chest.

The moment is immediately interrupted by the sound of their friends, all standing to the side and openly staring at them.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Scott says, like he can’t believe what he’s witnessing.

Allison is doing a very bad job of biting back amused laughter. Erica’s not even bothering to hide hers. Boyd is smirking. Isaac is pretending to vomit into the bushes.

And Derek very suddenly and desperately needs to be anywhere else in the entire world other than here. He feels split open and exposed in front of everyone, and it’s made all the worse by the fact that he didn’t even _know_ there was so much _to_ expose until he was faced with all of it already out there.

“I need to go get my cabin assignment.” He manages to keep his tone even, and then brushes past Stiles as quickly as possible to the main building.

No one chases after him, which he’s grateful for. He needs the time alone to come to terms with a few things, namely that he is stupidly gone on Stiles Stilinski and that he’s kind of freaking out over it.

Stiles is an asshole. Stiles spent the first half of last summer intentionally annoying the shit out of Derek at every waking moment, and the second half of it _un_ intentionally doing so. He’s argumentative and stubborn and sarcastic and Derek is completely in love with him, oh god. Derek wants to argue with him forever. This is not good.

And of course his cabin assignment lists him as once again paired up with Stiles. Shit.

“I’d offer to trade sleeping arrangements with you,” Boyd says a couple hours later as they unpack their duffle bags. Scott and Stiles are busy horsing around by the lake, leaving their own bags untouched on their beds. “But I don’t think I have your restraint when it comes to Stilinski, and I’m pretty sure this camp frowns on homicide.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Right.” Boyd rolls his eyes. “I can ask if McCall wants to trade with you.”

And Derek knows Scott would jump at the chance to be bunkmates with his best friend. The two of them were a mess of ecstatic shouting and hugging when they found out they just got to share the same _cabin_ this year. But it feels like Derek would be making himself far too obvious if he were to request the switch. And his gut churns at the thought of Stiles realizing how he feels.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m good.”

“You’d be better if you just made a move on him and put the rest of us out of our misery.”

Derek scowls at his friend, but Boyd just grins cheekily back at him and keeps refolding clothes.

Dinner that evening is a deafening chaos with everyone still riding the high of the first day and catching up with old friends after so many months apart. Derek is a little overwhelmed, just like in previous years. He keeps his eyes on his food as Allison and Erica excitedly talk over each other as they try to relate two completely different anecdotes about their PSAT’s. Isaac and Stiles are this close to starting an actual food fight with each other, while Scott plays tug of war with Boyd around them for the last chocolate chip granola bar.

So as soon as Derek’s finished he pats Boyd’s shoulder in silent goodbye, and slips out of the cafeteria.

The forest around him is full of life in the twilight, but it still settles something in his chest that was trying to claw its way out mere moments ago. The relative quiet in contrast to the cacophony Derek just left is jarring, though welcome, as he makes the trek back to his cabin.

He doesn’t hear the quick footsteps behind him until he’s already at the door.

“Boyd, I’m fine,” Derek sighs.

“I’m sorry,” says someone who is definitely not Boyd.

Derek turns around to find Stiles standing barely two feet away, wringing one end of his flannel shirt into a twisted rope between his hands. His eyes are so wide he looks a little manic.

“What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I should have called you. And I’m sorry for why I didn’t.”

Derek furrows his brow in confusion. “We texted all the time, Stiles. You never needed to call me. I wasn’t expecting–”

“But I _wanted_ to.” Stiles lets go of his flannel and runs both of his hands down his face. “Fuck. Every single day I wanted to call you! But I was too, I don’t even know, scared? Embarrassed? A freaking coward? And now you’re here right in front of me and I can hardly stand it and I’m _sorry_. Okay? I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or whatever. I’m going to try not to, like, get my feelings all over you while we’re here. I promise.”

It takes a very long moment for Derek to process this, and when he finally does he still doesn’t react because he doesn’t dare hope that what he thinks is happening is actually happening.

During this time, Stiles has gradually made himself smaller and smaller, hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his middle like he’s preparing for a hit. And the lengths that Derek would go to for Stiles to never have to look that way ever again…

“I should have called you, too,” he says in a rush. His body seems to still be in a useless state of shock but he’s managed to get his mouth working at least.

Stiles startles a little, his eyebrows shooting up in a surprised question.

“I should have. I wanted to. But I… Yeah. All the same reasons really. But I did want to. Every day I wanted to.”

Derek silently thanks Coach for their insane workout regimen when Stiles launches himself at him then and Derek manages to catch him without falling backwards onto the ground.

Instead, it’s the joyful laughter that sends him stumbling, rather than the weight of Stiles’ body. Stiles is grinning, laughing and sounding so perfectly, utterly happy, and it’s all directed _at Derek_ and it’s all _because of Derek,_ and the weight of that joy has him tripping back a couple of steps to land hard on his ass in a sitting position on the cabin’s front stoop.

Stiles follows him down, still laughing, and then rearranges his limbs so that he’s sitting in Derek’s lap, a thigh pressed tight to either side of Derek’s waist. “I’m applying to Columbia.”

Derek blinks, trying to catch up to wherever it is that Stiles is already at. It’s a familiar feeling. “Okay?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and then playfully cuffs Derek upside the head. “You said you were a legacy, right? And that you were going to Columbia like your dad? Well, now I’m going too. Maybe. Probably. With my grades and extracurriculars Lydia says my chances are through the roof, so.”

Derek can hardly breathe.

Stiles shifts and darts his eyes all over Derek’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s cool? I was kind of expecting you to swoop in at this point, so if your lack of engagement means you don’t want me to–”

Before Stiles can finish, Derek surges forward and kisses him. 

It’s urgent and hard only for as long as it takes for Stiles to start kissing him back, and then it quickly transitions into something else. Something happy and hopeful and affectionate. Something that a single summer could never contain. Not even multiple summers could do it justice, so they’ll just have to keep at it the whole year round.

When Scott and Boyd find them making out on the cabin steps half an hour later, Scott just groans and hands Boyd a twenty. Stiles flips them off behind his back, and Derek kisses him again just because he can.


End file.
